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Olivia Mazzucato 「Reel Representation: Asian-Americans gravely underrepresented in mainstream cinema

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Diversity in film and television came into the spotlight in 2016 with #OscarsSoWhite. A USC study in 2016 found only about a quarter of speaking characters belonged to non-white racial/ethnic groups. In “Reel Representation,” columnist Olivia Mazzucato discusses different issues of race and representation in media as they relate to new movies and TV shows.

「Fresh Off the Boat」 debuted on ABC in 2015, making it the first American television show about an Asian-American family in 20 years.

I struggled to process that fact. I wasn’t even alive the last time there was a show on television about people who looked like me. Obviously, representation isn’t perfect, but Hollywood has made considerable progress since 1994, when Margaret Cho’s 「All-American Girl」 held this distinction.

How is it that there’s been almost no change since the last millennium?

More than half of the top 100 grossing films of 2016 feature no Asian characters, and the average percentage is even higher for prime-time television shows. I felt acutely aware of this shortage this week when my roommate and I struggled to come up with a list of Asian characters from recent movies and TV shows. We failed to name more than 10 names.


Asian-American representation is a difficult issue to address because it is multifaceted. Erasure is disguised as a marketing decision; racism is masked as humor. But perhaps the biggest obstacle to representation is the idea that Asian inclusion is unattainable.

It’s easy to look at these obstacles and just want to give up. On rare occasions, we get a character like Hikaru Sulu from the 「Star Trek」 reboot, who shatters boundaries as a strong, gay Asian character and lives to fight another day. But often, it feels like each new issue is just a rehash of an old problem. We fight the same battles over and over again.

Some aspects of Hollywood are still biased against Asians. Racist humor that makes Asians the punchline is still oddly prevalent – the 2016 Oscars cast Asian children to portray bankers and more recently, Steve Harvey joked about women being repulsed by Asian men.

Films have repeatedly erased Asian characters in a series of casting decisions that feature combinations of whitewashing and modern-day yellowface. Emma Stone starred as a Chinese-Hawaiian character in 「Aloha」, and the 「Ghost in the Shell」 production commissioned visual effects tests to make white background actors look Asian.

The Asian-American characters that do make it to the screen face myriad problems.

Incredible Asian-American characters, like Cristina Yang from 「Grey’s Anatomy」 and Glenn Rhee from 「The Walking Dead」 have disappeared, having been either written off or killed, leaving a gaping void in representation.

Many Asian characters that remain on screen are problematic stereotypes. Raj Koothrappali of 「The Big Bang Theory」 is awkward and unable to talk to women. Katana from 「Suicide Squad」 wears a mask with the Japanese flag on it, speaks sparingly and is named after the Japanese sword she carries.

But even more daunting than all of these individual issues is the overwhelming mindset that Asian representation is impossible.

In response to the backlash following Scarlett Johansson’s casting in 「Ghost in the Shell」, screenwriter Max Landis posted a video on YouTube titled 「If You’re Mad About ‘Ghost In The Shell’ You Don’t Know How The Movie Industry Works」 and claimed that there simply weren’t any A-list Asian celebrities that could have taken the role. Writer Aaron Sorkin made similar statements, complaining that it was difficult to adapt a particular book because there aren’t any Asian movie stars.

I’m not going to lie and say there are Asian-American equivalents to George Clooney or Julia Roberts. There aren’t. But for some reason, Hollywood seems reluctant to create them or to give them a chance to be legends in their own right.

Reading Sorkin’s comments particularly stung because I’ve seen his ability to craft compelling characters in 「The West Wing」, to write roles that propel actors and actresses to fame. He has the credibility and the power within Hollywood, as a writer and as a creator, to elevate Asian actors and actresses.

He shouldn’t have to worry about the lack of Asian movie stars – he can create them.

Sorkin isn’t the source of the problem – he’s simply part of a mindset pervasive throughout the industry. These responses normalize the idea that Asians are not represented realistically, that it is commonplace for their characters to be absent or stereotyped.

Fixing Asian representation cannot happen overnight. Because the issue is so large and complex, there’s no clear path towards equitable diversity. We must fight this perception across the board – both those in positions of power within Hollywood and audiences who vote with their money and ratings.

And maybe someday, 「Fresh Off the Boat」 won’t be the only TV show about Asian-Americans. Maybe then, my roommate and I won’t have to struggle to name Asian characters.




Alex Davidson 「10 great gay films from east and south-east Asia」

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Take a look at the best gay films from China, Hong Kong, Japan, Malaysia, the Philippines and Thailand.

Our list includes films from across east and south-east Asia, including works from China, Hong Kong, Japan, Malaysia, the Philippines and Thailand. Gay rights, and representation of gay men on screen, vary hugely from country to country, offering a rich diversity of fascinating movies. Films that would have made the cut had they been more easily available include Stanley Kwan’s romantic tragedy 「Lan Yu」 (2001), the flawed but fascinating Filipino crime drama 「Macho Dancer」 (1988), and two Japanese ‘pink cinema’ titles – 「Beautiful Mystery」 (1983) and 「I Like You, I Like You Very Much」 (1994).

If east and south-east Asian films about gay men rarely make it to DVD, films about lesbians are rarer still. The groundbreaking 「Fish And Elephant」 (2001) is hard to find, 「Blue Gate Crossing」 (2002) is out of print, while 「All About Love」 (2010) and the award-winning 「Spider Lilies」 (2006) didn’t get a British DVD release. We hope that, with classic lesbian titles becoming increasingly successful, albeit at a shamefully slow rate, a future list on gay female east Asian films will appear in the future.

「Funeral Parade Of Roses」 (1969)
Director Toshio Matsumoto

Hold on tight, as 「Funeral Parade Of Roses」 takes you on an outrageous journey through sex, drugs, drag and Oedipal horror, in a weird and rather terrifying walk on the wild side. The bananas plot is pure camp: transvestite performer Eddie (played by Peter, later the fool in Akira Kurosawa’s 「Ran」 (1985)) strikes up a fierce rivalry with another drag queen in Shinjuku Ni-chōme, Tokyo’s gay ghetto. Eddie tries to forget harrowing memories of killing his mother – and anyone who knows their Greek tragedy will second-guess the identity of the manager of a gay bar with whom he then shacks up.

A direct influence on Stanley Kubrick’s 「A Clockwork Orange」 (1971), 「Funeral Parade Of Roses」 gleefully subverts all notion of respectability, giving the viewer an unashamed snapshot of 1960s Japanese gay subculture on the way, as queers in Tokyo speak their minds to the camera.

「Farewell My Concubine」 (1993)
Director Chen Kaige

The unrequited gay love story at the heart of Chen Kaige’s Palme d’Or-winning masterpiece is often overlooked, with critics concentrating their admiration on the incredibly ambitious scope of the film, taking in over half a century of Chinese history. It follows the friendship of two men, brought up through the strict training of the Peking Opera School. Dieyi (Leslie Cheung) has been trained in female roles, and plays the concubine to the King of Chu, played by his friend Xiaolou (Zhang Fengyi). Dieyi falls in love with Xiaolou, but the latter marries a prostitute (Gong Li, excellent), ushering in a complex saga of love and betrayal.

Cheung is remarkable as the tragic figure of Dieyi, a damaged and abused individual who resorts to dreadful betrayal when threatened by the Red Guards. Cheung, who came out as bisexual, was a hugely successful pop star in Hong Kong as well as an acclaimed actor, starring in several films by Wong Kar-wai, including 「Happy Together」 (1997). After years of suffering from depression, he killed himself in 2003.

「East Palace, West Palace」 (1996)
Director Zhang Yuan

Power play is a major theme of this intense drama, in which a gay man is apprehended while cruising in a park and spends the night in a police station under the stern eye of the arresting officer. As the detainee tells the disapproving cop about his tumultuous life, it becomes clear he is subtly trying to seduce the masculine policeman. When the officer releases the gay man from custody, he refuses to leave, and things takes turn for the twisted. Jean Genet would have loved it.

The Chinese Film Bureau weren’t fans of this subversive work, and confiscated director Zhang Yuan’s passport. Opting to use a gay man to symbolise free spirits and a possibly homosexual guard to represent Chinese authority was a risky move, complicated by the former’s sado-masochistic declaration of love for his captor. Despite a low budget, it’s a beautiful and highly provocative work. The title is a reference to the parks flanking the Forbidden City, popular cruising grounds for Beijing’s gay men.

「Happy Together」 (1997)
Director Wong Kar-wai

This is one of the coolest gay films ever made, a vivid and exhilarating depiction of two men from Hong Kong – Lai (Tony Leung) and Ho (Leslie Cheung) – in an intense on-again-off-again relationship, who travel to Argentina to visit Iguazu Falls, but end up repeating the cycle of infidelity and cruelty. After yet another break-up, Lai meets the handsome and possibly gay Chang, whose friendship jolts Lai into facing up to his responsibilities, and offers a chance of happiness and redemption.

Wong Kar-wai enjoyed an extraordinary string of success from 1990-2000, including 「Chungking Express」 (1994), the perfect date movie, and 「In The Mood For Love」 (2000), one of cinema’s greatest love stories. 「Happy Together」, which won him the best director award at Cannes, is one of his best, with a terrific central performance from Leung as a young, insecure man yearning for romance. As so often with Wong Kar-wai, the last shot, accompanied by a brassy cover of the title song, is unforgettable.

「Gohatto」 (1999)
Director Nagisa Oshima

‘Gohatto’ means ‘taboo’ in Japanese, and here the forbidden subject is homosexuality. In 19th-century Japan, a young and beautiful swordsman (Ryuhei Matsuda) joins a group of samurai. Although homosexuality is forbidden, he immediately arouses the attention of his fellow warriors, including the stern vice-commander (Takeshi Kitano). Sexual jealousy inevitably rears its head, and violence ensues.

Unorthodox erotic obsession permeates the best-known works of Nagisa Oshima, notably the ultra-controversial 「Ai no Corrida」 (1976), with its graphic scenes of unsimulated sex, and the homoerotic atmosphere of the prison camp in 「Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence」 (1983). 「Gohatto」 is especially interesting given Oshima’s criticism of the work of Akira Kurosawa. A world away from the male bonding of 「Seven Samurai」 (1954), Gohatto’s world without women is vicious and destructive. The last scene, set by a lake, is incredibly beautiful.

「Tokyo Godfathers」 (2003)
Director Satoshi Kon

A funny and moving reimagining of John Ford’s western 「3 Godfathers」 (1948), Satoshi Kon’s animation follows a trio of homeless people – an alcoholic man, a former drag queen and a young female runaway – who discover a baby in a pile of rubbish. They embark on a journey to track down the child’s mother, and reveal details of their past lives as they traipse through snowy Tokyo.

It’s unclear in the story whether Hana is a cross-dressing gay man or a trans woman. Either way, Hana is a fantastic character, who dreams of bringing up a baby and shows the most kindness of the threesome. Even Hana’s one moment of cruelty, when Hana deliberately humiliates the alcoholic man in front of his daughter, is done out of perverse kindness. The bond between the three is seemingly unbreakable, and together they form the tightest of units, reinventing the concept of family. A queer fairytale.

「Tropical Malady」 (2004)
Director Apichatpong Weerasethakul

On the festival circuit, Apichatpong ‘Joe’ Weerasethakul has established himself as Thailand’s leading director, having scooped multiple prizes at Cannes, including the Palme d’Or for 「Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives」 (2010). Homosexual themes suffuse much of his work (Weerasethakul is gay himself), manifesting as out and out camp in the outrageous 「The Adventure Of Iron Pussy」 (2003). But best of all is 「Tropical Malady」, one of the most mesmerising and surreal gay love stories ever told.

A soldier and a country boy fall for each other and pay regular visits to the Thai jungle. So far, so unremarkable. Then one of the men is spirited away and the narrative whirls into a different world. The soldier appears to be on the trail of an apparently shape-shifting entity which may or may not be his departed lover. It’s utterly bizarre and utterly beautiful – a shot of a tree lit up by fireflies is astonishing, as is the hypnotic final encounter between the hero and a tiger.

「The Blossoming Of Maximo Oliveros」 (2005)
Director Auraeus Solito

A gay Filipino kid with a penchant for drag is the subject of Auraeus Solito’s funny but gritty coming-of-age film. Young Maximo, whose family make their living through petty thievery, lives in a poor area of Manila. A police officer investigates the family’s crimes, and Maximo develops a deep crush on him. The two form a tight if unusual friendship, which is jeopardised as the officer’s duty threatens Maximo’s family.

Nathan Lopez gives a wonderfully guileless performance as Maximo, who grows from the dizzy kid dressing up as Miss World at the start of the film to the mature adolescent who walks off to a brave new future at the end, in a knowing nod to 「The Third Man」 (1949). The film deservedly won the Teddy award, celebrating the best LGBT cinema, at the Berlin Film Festival.

「I Don’t Want To Sleep Alone」 (2006)
Director Tsai Ming-liang

Gay characters appear throughout the work of Malaysian director Tsai Ming-liang, from the suicidal homosexual man in 「Vive l’Amour」 (1994), the hopeful horny Japanese guy cruising the cinema in 「Goodbye, Dragon Inn」 (2003) and the father and son in the bleak 「The River」 (1997). Sadly few of his greatest films are available on DVD, with the exception of the beautiful 「I Don’t Want To Sleep Alone」.

In his first feature made in Malaysia (his previous work was filmed in Taiwan), Ming-liang regular Lee Kang-sheng stars in two roles – as a comatose man cared for by a woman, and as a migrant worker in Kuala Lumpur who is beaten up and cared for by a gay Bangladeshi man. The latter falls for his patient, despite their different languages. The film uses many of the tropes of Ming-liang’s previous works – long takes, a slow pace, themes of longing and loneliness – to create a beautiful and unclassifiable work.

「Soundless Wind Chime」 (2009)
Director Kit Hung

In this globe-trotting semi-autobiographical debut feature from Kit Hung, Ricky, a delivery boy working in Hong Kong, falls in love with petty thief Pascal (Bernhard Bulling), who pinches his wallet. The two start a passionate relationship, but tragedy strikes. Numb with grief, Ricky travels to his lover’s native Switzerland, and meets Ueli (Bulling again), who looks exactly like Pascal. They, too, begin a relationship. But is Ueli’s resemblance to Pascal mere coincidence?

The non-linear narrative can be tricky to follow, and the film demands more than one viewing to tease out its mysteries. It’s an enigmatic film with some gorgeous flourishes (check out the yodelling-backed scene in the Swiss bar), and a hugely impressive first (and hopefully not last) feature. 「Speechless」 (2012), another strange romance filmed in China, shares similar themes and is available on BFI Player.

Author: Alex Davidson/Date: March 09, 2017/Source: http://www.bfi.org.uk/news-opinion/news-bfi/lists/10-great-gay-films-east-asia


Myriam Levain 「Les asiatiques de France en ont ras-le-bol des clichés et le disent dans un clip」

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La journaliste Hélène Lam Trong a rassemblé des personnalités et des anonymes asiatiques français dans un clip qui remet en question les stéréotypes dont est victime la communauté asiatique en France.

Hélène Lam Trong&Pierre Sang

Du chef Pierre Sang aux comédiens Frédéric Chau et Lin Dan Pham, en passant par de nombreux anonymes qui ont accueilli l’idée avec enthousiasme, c’est un joli petit groupe que la journaliste Hélène Lam Trong, 35 ans, a réussi à réunir en quelques jours, quand le projet de tourner un clip contre les clichés sur les Asiatiques s’est accéléré. Si c’est un groupe d’habitants du xiiie arrondissement qui en est à l’origine, c’est la jeune femme qui s’est démenée pour donner corps à cette envie. Interview express.

C’est quoi le message principal de ce clip ?

Le message est double : rappeler que les Français d’origine asiatique sont des Français à part entière, tout en les incitant à investir davantage l’espace public. C’est modeste comme ambition, mais on part quasiment de zéro. Il s’agit juste de dire « Je ne suis pas discret, je ne suis pas mangeur de chien, je ne suis pas tching tchong, niakoué ou Bruce Lee. Je suis professeur des écoles, footballeur, médecin, agent immobilier, rugbyman, avocat, comédien, comédienne, chanteuse, étudiante, retraité, chef cuisinier, journaliste etc. Français, quoi ».


「Clip Asiatiques de France」 - posted on March 23, 2017.

Avec: Steve Tran, Frédéric Chau, Linh-Dan Pham, Leng Toan, François Trinh-Duc, Anne-Solenne Hatte, Pierre Sang, Anggun, Raphaël Yem, Alphonse Areola, Hom Nguyen, Alexandre Nguy, Paul Duan, Émilie Tran Nguyen, Monsieur Nov, Soc Lam, Sophie Hua, Sommany Nhouyvanisvong, Nhi Oum, Nguyen Vy Thuy, Véronique Ung, Éloïse Giromanay, Ty Boun Tai, Sophie In, M. Nguyen, les Smileyz, My Anh Hoang, Jessica Liu, Elsa, Christelle, Hervé et Léo Vongsamay.

Pourquoi t’es-tu investie dans ce projet ?

Le projet est né d’une rencontre, il y a quelques semaines à peine. J’étais en train de tourner un documentaire pour France 2, sur l’acteur Frédéric Chau. À travers lui, il était bien sûr question des problématiques que rencontrent aujourd’hui les Français d’origine asiatique. Nous avons notamment tourné dans le xiiie arrondissement de Paris, pendant le Nouvel An chinois. Et j’y ai rencontré des habitants actifs du quartier. Parmi eux, il y avait un groupe de cinq vieux copains, aux professions très éloignées des médias et du show-biz (traiteurs, agent de voyage, marketing, expert comptable...). Ils m’ont montré une vidéo faite par les Américains d’origine asiatique en disant « on aimerait tellement qu’une vidéo pareille existe en France ! ». Parce que je suis moi-même à moitié vietnamienne, j’ai une sensibilité à tout ce qui touche la communauté asiatique, même si j’ai grandi loin d’elle. J’ai proposé que cette vidéo, on la fasse ensemble. Mais en posant quelques conditions : ne pas lui donner de sens proprement politique et s’adresser à tous les Français, pas uniquement à ceux d’origine asiatique. J’ai tâté le terrain auprès de plusieurs personnalités, elles ont toutes été extrêmement enthousiastes. Mélissa Theuriau a accepté de nous soutenir dans la production. Du coup, on s’est lancés.

« Si on n’a plus envie d’être invisibles, il faut oser le dire. »

Comment expliquer le manque de visibilité des asiatiques en France ?

Le manque de visibilité vient, à mon sens, d’un manque de représentativité. Aujourd’hui, il y a des asiatiques dans tous les secteurs d’activité, à tous niveaux de qualification. En revanche, ils sont moins présents dans le paysage médiatique et donc dans l’imaginaire collectif. Le meilleur exemple est peut-être le cinéma où il reste rarissime de voir un comédien d’origine asiatique interpréter un Français lambda. Par ailleurs, il faut le dire, une certaine réserve a été adoptée par la « première » génération d’immigrés asiatiques, ceux arrivés en masse à la fin des années 70, début des années 80. Probablement parce qu’ils avaient tout perdu et étaient dans une logique de survie pure. Peut-être aussi qu’en tant que réfugiés accueillis, à l’époque, à bras ouverts par la France, ils se sentaient redevables. Ce qui les a rendus peu enclins à dénoncer le racisme qui pouvait les viser. Mais cette réserve n’est plus ce à quoi aspirent les deuxième et troisième générations.

Notre génération sera-t-elle celle du changement ?

C’est une évidence. Même s’il existe des freins intergénérationnels : adopter une attitude qui s’inscrit en opposition avec celle de ses parents n’est pas toujours simple. Au sein de la communauté, on sent un vrai souci de ne pas froisser les aînés... associé à une vraie volonté d’avancer. Pas facile ! Cependant, le changement s’impose un peu de fait. Aujourd’hui, les asiatiques sont visés directement par des actes violents, ils font l’objet de sketches et de blagues que plus personne n’ose se permettre à propos d’autres communautés. Pour renverser les préjugés, il faut mouiller la chemise. Ça peut prendre des formes différentes mais si on n’a plus envie d’être invisibles, il faut oser le dire. Haut et fort.

Author: Marine Le Breton/Date: March 23, 2017/Source: http://cheekmagazine.fr/societe/clip-asiatiques-france-helene-lam-trong/




Nicolas Raffin 「VIDEO. Anggun, François Trinh-Duc, Alphonse Areola… Les Français d’origine asiatique prennent la parole dans un clip」

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MOBILISATION Ils veulent notamment casser plusieurs clichés trop souvent associés à cette communauté...

Les Français d’origine asiatique veulent s’exprimer. « Ils n’ont plus envie qu’on les considère comme réservés, discrets » explique Hélène Lam Trong. Cette journaliste indépendante vient de réaliser un clip, publié ce jeudi sur Facebook. La vidéo veut inciter les Asiatiques à prendre la parole pour « changer les choses ».

Dans ce clip apparaissent des personnalités telles que François Trinh-Duc, joueur professionnel de rugby, la chanteuse Anggun, le gardien du PSG Alphonse Areola, mais aussi Frédéric Chau. Le comédien, qui a notamment joué dans 「Qu’est qu’on a fait au bon Dieu ?」, a rencontré Hélène Lam Trong qui voulait réaliser son portrait.

« Il m’a fait rencontrer la communauté asiatique du xiiie arrondissement de Paris, raconte-t-elle à『20 Minutes』, et notamment un groupe de copains : Jacques, David, Kim Nay, Kim Lys et My-Anh. Ils ont tous des métiers très différents et ne sont pas politisés. » Ensemble, ils décident de s’inspirer d’une vidéo tournée aux États-Unis et incitant la communauté asiatique à s’inscrire sur les listes électorales.

« Je n’ai pas du tout eu besoin de les convaincre »
Après un rapide crowdfunding et grâce à un studio prêté par la journaliste et productrice Mélissa Theuriau, le tournage est bouclé en quelques jours. Hélène Lam Trong s’étonne même de ne pas avoir eu à forcer pour convaincre les stars de participer. « François Trinh-Duc est venu exprès de Marcoussis [centre d’entraînement de l’équipe de France de rugby] pour participer au clip, Alphonse Areola est venu après l’entraînement avec le PSG avec sa voiture », explique-t-elle.

Au final, la vidéo est le résultat d’un compromis : « le groupe que j’ai rencontré voulait surtout s’adresser à la communauté, moi je voulais que ça parle à tout le monde, explique la journaliste : on a essayé de trouver un équilibre, c’est pour ça qu’on incite les gens à s’exprimer de manière générale, pas forcément en votant. »

Le ras-le-bol de la communauté
L’intiative rappelle que la communauté asiatique est victime de discriminations. À l’été 2016, plusieurs marches avaient été organisées à Paris et Aubervilliers après la mort de Zhang Chaolin, un couturier victime d’une très violente agression au moment d’un vol. « Ces délinquants nous croient riches, s’énervait Joëlle, rencontrée en 2016 par『20 Minutes』. Ils sont persuadés que nous nous promenons avec beaucoup de liquide sur nous ».

En décembre 2016, Anthony Cheylan, rédacteur en chef de Clique TV, se fendait d’un article cinglant après un sketch de Kev Adams et de Gad Elmalehrempli de clichés sur les Chinois.

Avec ce nouveau clip, Hélène Lam Trong n’a pas forcément de but précis : « On n’a pas réfléchi à la suite, reconnait-elle, je pense que ceux qui ont participé ont envie d’initier un mouvement pour montrer que quand on se met dans la lumière ce n’est que du bon. »


「Clip Asiatiques de France」 - posted on March 23, 2017.

Avec: Steve Tran, Frédéric Chau, Linh-Dan Pham, Leng Toan, François Trinh-Duc, Anne-Solenne Hatte, Pierre Sang, Anggun, Raphaël Yem, Alphonse Areola, Hom Nguyen, Alexandre Nguy, Paul Duan, Émilie Tran Nguyen, Monsieur Nov, Soc Lam, Sophie Hua, Sommany Nhouyvanisvong, Nhi Oum, Nguyen Vy Thuy, Véronique Ung, Éloïse Giromanay, Ty Boun Tai, Sophie In, M. Nguyen, les Smileyz, My Anh Hoang, Jessica Liu, Elsa, Christelle, Hervé et Léo Vongsamay.





Marine Le Breton 「Dans ce clip, les « Asiatiques de France » s’attaquent aux clichés dont ils sont victimes」

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Frédéric Chau& Alphonse Areola

Plusieurs personnalités apparaissent dans cette vidéo, parmi lesquelles Pierre Sang, Anggun ou Frédéric Chau.

CLICHÉS – « Bruce Lee », « Jackie Chan », « Vous êtes discrets », les « chinetoques »... Ces mots et propos, les Asiatiques de France en ont marre de les entendre et ils prennent la parole pour s’attaquer aux clichés qui perdurent à leur sujet.

Dans une vidéo réalisée par la journaliste indépendante Hélène Lam Trong, postée ce jeudi 23 mars sur la page Facebook « Asiatiques de France », plusieurs personnalités apparaissent, parmi lesquelles le chef Pierre Sang, la chanteuse Anggun ou encore le comédien Frédéric Chau, rendu célèbre par son rôle dans 「Qu’est-ce qu’on a fait au Bon Dieu」.

Partagée plus de 5000 fois en à peine quelques heures, ils appréhendent en deux minutes les stéréotypes dont la communauté asiatique en France souffre encore aujourd’hui.


「Clip Asiatiques de France」 - posted on March 23, 2017.

Avec: Steve Tran, Frédéric Chau, Linh-Dan Pham, Leng Toan, François Trinh-Duc, Anne-Solenne Hatte, Pierre Sang, Anggun, Raphaël Yem, Alphonse Areola, Hom Nguyen, Alexandre Nguy, Paul Duan, Émilie Tran Nguyen, Monsieur Nov, Soc Lam, Sophie Hua, Sommany Nhouyvanisvong, Nhi Oum, Nguyen Vy Thuy, Véronique Ung, Éloïse Giromanay, Ty Boun Tai, Sophie In, M. Nguyen, les Smileyz, My Anh Hoang, Jessica Liu, Elsa, Christelle, Hervé et Léo Vongsamay.

Petit rappel d’histoire à l’appui – les Asiatiques ont combattu pour l’armée française pendant les deux Guerres mondiales, ils ont été des boat-people, ces Vietnamiens qui ont fui leur pays – la vidéo insiste surtout sur ce que ces personnes asiatiques représentent aujourd’hui dans la société française : des Français. Ils sont « entrepreneur, agent immobilier fonctionnaire, avocat, médecin, professeur des écoles, retraité (...), liste la réalisatrice. Bref : ils sont comme tout le monde.

« Le message est double », explique Hélène Lam Trong, contactée par『Cheek』magazine, « rappeler que les Français d’origine asiatique sont des Français à part entière, tout en les incitant à investir davantage l’espace public (...) Il s’agit juste de dire « Je ne suis pas discret, je ne suis pas mangeur de chien, je ne suis pas tching tchong, niakoué ou Bruce Lee », poursuit-elle.

Le projet est né il y a très peu de temps avec une rencontre avec Frédéric Chau, qui lui a fait « rencontrer la communauté asiatique du xiiie arrondissement », précise-t-elle à『20 Minutes』. En quelques jours, après une petite aide par crowfunding, le projet est né.

Et cette vidéo vient rappeler une nouvelle fois que les discriminations dont sont victimes les Asiatiques. En septembre dernier, plusieurs milliers de personnes manifestaient à Paris contre le racisme anti-asiatique.





Nassira El Moaddem 「« Asiatiques de France »  : « Prenez la parole, montrez-vous, osez  ! »」

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Hélène Lam Trong, journaliste et réalisatrice d’origine vietnamienne, signe le clip 「Asiatiques de France」, une vidéo pour rendre visible la minorité asiatique à travers des personnalités et des anonymes. Durant deux minutes, le clip recense les insultes racistes proférées contre les Français d’origine asiatique, rappelle ce qu’ils ont apporté à la société et ce qu’ils sont devenus : des citoyens français à part entière. Interview.

Bondy Blog  : Comment t’est venue cette idée de clip sur les Asiatiques de France ?

Hélène Lam Trong : Je ne peux même pas dire que c’est mon idée. En début d’année, j’ai tourné un documentaire pour France 2 sur le comédien Frédéric Chau, 「Qu’est-ce qu’on a fait au Bon Dieu」. En le suivant, notamment dans le xiiie arrondissement, j’ai rencontré beaucoup de personnes impliquées dans l’organisation du défilé du Nouvel An chinois en particulier, et dans la vie du quartier en général. Autour d’un café, j’ai fait la connaissance de cinq de amis de longue date, My-Anh, Kim Lys, Kim Anh, Jacques et David. Il m’ont montré une vidéo faite par les Américains d’origine asiatique. Ils m’ont dit qu’ils adoreraient pouvoir faire une vidéo similaire en France. Ils m’ont alors demandé si je connaissais des réalisateurs qui pouvaient faire ça. J’ai un peu cherché sans trouver. Du coup, je me suis portée volontaire. Mais en posant certaines conditions pour adapter le clip au public français.

Bondy Blog : Lesquelles ?

Hélène Lam Trong : Je n’assumais du tout qu’il puisse y avoir un appel au vote dans le clip par exemple. Je suis journaliste et je ne voulais pas qu’il y ait un message politique qui plus est clivant ou partisan.

Bondy Blog : À quelle nécessité ce clip répond ?

Hélène Lam Trong : Il y avait un sentiment d’urgence. Les Asiatiques sont régulièrement visés par des actes racistes, par un racisme ordinaire et par des actes violents ce qui est évidemment mal vécu par beaucoup de monde. Il y a une libération de la parole raciste en général. Mais à la différence d’autres minorités, les Asiatiques n’ont pas d’organisation constituée de défense de leurs droits. Cette vidéo est juste là pour dire, sans prétention ni revendication précise, « Eh oh, on est là, on existe, on aimerait qu’on voie en nous des Français avant de voir des Asiatiques ».

Bondy Blog : Quel est l’objectif de ce projet  ?

Hélène Lam Trong :À vrai dire, on n’a pas intellectualisé la démarche. Mais en mettant côte à côte personnalités et anonymes, en créant un effet d’accumulation, on avait envie de dire que l’invisibilité qu’on reproche aux Asiatiques, elle est avant tout subie. L’autre message s’adresse directement aux Français d’origine asiatique : « prenez la parole, montrez-vous, osez ! »

Bondy Blog : Avec quels moyens as-tu pu réaliser ce clip ?

Hélène Lam Trong : Très peu ! On a lancé un « kiss kiss bank bank » auprès de nos proches. On a récolté un peu plus de 2500 euros. Mélissa Theuriau, que je connais, a aussi eu la gentillesse de nous soutenir en mettant à notre disposition un studio qu’on n’aurait jamais pu louer sans son aide et en me permettant d’acheter des images de l’INA via sa boîte de production.

Bondy Blog : On sait la difficulté en France d’afficher parfois ses engagements citoyens. Dans ce clip, il y a des personnalités : Frédéric Chau, François Trinh-Duc, Anggun, Alphonse Areola, Anne-Solenne Hatte, Raphäl Yem, Steve Tran et bien d’autres. Est-ce qu’il a été difficile pour toi de les convaincre ?

Hélène Lam Trong : Absolument pas ! Au contraire ! Elles ont toutes été extrêmement enthousiastes. Frédéric Chau m’a aidée, à travers sa notoriété, à joindre les personnalités dont je n’avais pas les coordonnées, ce qui m’a confortée dans la conviction qu’il y avait un truc à faire maintenant, tout de suite. Tous les participants se sont démenés pour venir en studio malgré leurs emplois du temps très chargés. Je pense notamment à Anggun qui est venue directement en rentrant du Japon et aux sportifs comme François Trinh-Duc et Alphonse Areola, qui se sont pliés en quatre pour que le tournage soit possible avec eux.

Bondy Blog : Il y a ce message très important : « Vous dîtes de nous que nous sommes invisibles mais regardez nous, nous sommes bien là ! »

Hélène Lam Trong : Exactement. Et pour les jeunes français d’origine asiatique, il est important d’avoir des modèles qui leur ressemblent. Par exemple, Frédéric Chau m’a raconté qu’il ne se reconnaissait pas dans les figures qu’il y avait à la télévision, que ce soit dans leur physique que dans leur vie tout simplement. C’est exactement la même chose pour les livres d’enfants, les dessins, ou les films dans lesquels lorsqu’il y a des Asiatiques, ils jouent des Asiatiques et pas des rôles de journalistes, d’avocats ou autre. Il y a un manque de modèles. Avec ce clip, les jeunes ont une palette inspirante, j’espère.

Bondy Blog : C’est un message très universel, celui de dire « nous sommes qui nous sommes, avec notre histoire et les images d’archives sont là pour en témoigner, mais on ne fera rien sans être ensemble ». Ça change des discours séparatistes actuels...

Hélène Lam Trong : Bien sûr. L’histoire permet d’éclairer le présent. Ceux qui organisent les divisions aiment à gommer certains passages de l’histoire. Il est bon de les rappeler, même de manière laconique, y compris pour les jeunes qui ne savent pas forcément quelle est leur histoire commune avec la France. Le message est « Nous sommes des Français comme les autres », mais on peut lire aussi « Nous sommes des immigrés comme les autres ».

Bondy Blog : Est-ce que ce clip va déboucher sur autre chose, un autre projet ?

Hélène Lam Trong : Pas à mon niveau. Ou alors un documentaire peut-être, pourquoi pas. En tout cas, les participants espèrent tous que cela va créer une impulsion dans la communauté, que cela va pousser certains à prendre des initiatives pour mieux faire connaître la communauté. Et si ça peut déjà donner du baume au cœur à ceux qui subissent des moqueries quotidiennes, c’est déjà beaucoup !

Pour en savoir plus, rendez-vous sur la page Facebook « Asiatiques de France »


「Clip Asiatiques de France」 - posted on March 23, 2017.

Avec: Steve Tran, Frédéric Chau, Linh-Dan Pham, Leng Toan, François Trinh-Duc, Anne-Solenne Hatte, Pierre Sang, Anggun, Raphaël Yem, Alphonse Areola, Hom Nguyen, Alexandre Nguy, Paul Duan, Émilie Tran Nguyen, Monsieur Nov, Soc Lam, Sophie Hua, Sommany Nhouyvanisvong, Nhi Oum, Nguyen Vy Thuy, Véronique Ung, Éloïse Giromanay, Ty Boun Tai, Sophie In, M. Nguyen, les Smileyz, My Anh Hoang, Jessica Liu, Elsa, Christelle, Hervé et Léo Vongsamay.





Kyle Casey Chu 「San Francisco’s Most Famous Asian Drag Family Hazed Me Hard」

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The Rice Rockettes are a drag family with serious roots in radical, race-conscious, HIV/AIDS advocacy. They put me to the test to see if I could serve looks that meet their expectations.

After two months of hazing – contour and makeup tests, socials and shows – the Rice Rockettes’ Holiday Drag showcase this past December was the performance that would determine whether I’d be inducted into the historic all Asian American San Francisco drag house. The group challenged me to perform a pop number that incorporates political commentary.

I decided to sport a black leather harness and a sexy Santa velveteen one-piece; the number is 「Into You」 by Ariana Grande. And despite my traction-less stilettos and severely rushed tuck, I’m thrust on the stage, under hot, throbbing lights, about to lap dance a man with a sign taped to his chest that reads “Obamacare.”

After mime-fisting Mr. Obamacare, a Trump impersonator forcibly removes him from the platform. 「Into You」 transitions into Anne Hathaway’s rendition of 「I Dreamed a Dream」 from 「Les Misérables」. I remove my wig and proceed to ugly cry and chop off all of my real hair with safety scissors. The Rockettes gasp, the audience cheers, and the bartenders groan as chunks of sweaty black hair flutter unceremoniously to the bar floor.

Within 24 hours, Rice Rockettes’ drag mother and founder, Estée Longah, tells me that I’ve officially been voted in as their newest member. “May the gods have mercy on your soul,” she says.

But don’t let the frivolity give you the wrong idea – the Rockettes are a drag family with serious roots in radical, race-conscious HIV/AIDS advocacy.

The group’s origins lie in an Asian American HIV/AIDS outreach project called the Rice Girls, a punny homage to the Spice Girls. In the mid 90s, as HIV rates began to rise among Asian and Pacific Islander men, the Centers for Disease Control (CDC) saw a need for culturally competent methods to engage the community. They turned to trans Filipina activist Tita Aida (“Auntie AIDS” in Tagalog), who they hired to serve as a San Francisco health ambassador for the Asian and Pacific Islander community. Her outreach efforts often seemed more like stand-up comedy, and they routinely packed hundreds into 150-person-capacity bars.

In 1998, to kick it up a notch, she recruited five Asian American drag queens and health educators to accompany her in her outreach, a group she named the Rice Girls. They performed at the now-shuttered San Francisco gay bar N’Touch (short for “Asian Touch”) with shows that acted out campy safe-sex scenarios on the stage before lip sync performances of Spice Girls singles. The CDC supported them through grants until 2005, when funding parameters shifted, and they were forced to disband.

After the Rice Girls disbanded, Tita took to grooming another drag queen – Alex Baty, another N’Touch performer – into the drag queen and community organizer she is today: Estée Longah. Alex soon teamed up with a cadre of drag collaborators to put on a performance fundraiser in 2008, and after rave reviews, she rebranded the group the Rice Rockettes, which today carry on the Rice Girls’ activist-performance mission.

The Rockettes have since performed at pride festivals far and wide: the Gay Asian Pacific Alliance’s Special Evening with George Takei, theme parks, special events, and, notably, before a seemingly confused panel of judges on 「America’s Got Talent」. They’re now in their third generation of girls; in addition to founding members Estée Longah, Doncha Vishyuwuzme, and Chi-Chi Kago, members include Brenda Dong, Emma Hooker, Kristi Yummykochi, Imelda Glucose, LuLu M. Pia– plus myself, Panda Dulce.

But the road to becoming a member was not easy.

I’ve been doing drag for a while, but to join the Rockettes, I was subject to lengthy tests of my willpower, drag prowess, and loyalty. The first was a makeup tutorial, where Estée asked if I was right-handed (I am) and proceeded to paint the right side of my face – the easier side – before instructing me to perfectly recreate the look on my left. She and a Rockettes alumni closely examined my work, and after some deliberation, I passed. When I said, “Well, that was terrifying,” she said, without a hint of humor, “We’re Asian. Our hazing is subversive and psychological.”

Over the weeks to come, I was pushed to my drag limits. I was asked to perform a conceptual routine that blended old-line, traditional drag with contemporary pop; I went with 「Bitch I’m Madonna」, dressed in the same Soviet-inspired S&M leatherwear as her music video’s Asian backup dancers. I brought a walking cane and played “old,” clutching my back during a shaky, belabored Charleston.

Then I was nearly eliminated by a lackluster Halloween performance. My fellow Rockettes pulled out all the stops – Kristy dressed up as a juggalette, brandishing a butcher knife and laughing maniacally during her set; Estée performed 「Hello」 by Adele as Samara from 「The Ring」, whispering “hello” from the other side of a television – but my goth-skewed Azealia Banks performance was knocked for lacking surprises to keep the audience on their toes.

So surprises I brought. Fisting Mr. Obamacare with pudding-covered latex gloves and giving myself an Anne Hathaway haircut were my aces in the hole at my audition. According to the girls, that was the show that cemented me as a member. I was immediately asked to learn choreography for a performance at the Imperial Court, one of the world’s longest-running and largest LGBTQ organizations.

“For me, the Rice Rockettes is all about inclusivity,” said Imelda Glucose. “We’re celebrating a community that are often othered in the gay world.” And since the group’s formation, it’s moved on from solely focusing on HIV/AIDS to a larger mission: celebrating and empowering the LGBTQ Asian American community in all respects.

For Tita Aida, the Rice Girls and Rockettes promote more than just LGBTQ Asian American visibility. “Six of the Rice Girls have since transitioned to identify as trans women,” said Tita. “This family can, and has, opened the door for young Asian American trans women to seek their authentic selves. It’s modeling empowerment. There isn’t a whole lot of that for Asians in the LGBTQ community.”

In an age where Asian drag queens like Kimora Blac, Phi Phi O’hara, and Kim Chi have opened unprecedented doors for their community, breaking down barriers for Asian and Pacific Islander Americans in drag, their mission – to increase Asian American visibility in both drag and the larger LGBTQ community – has been made more attainable than ever. The Rockettes’ monthly show remains one of the only regular events in San Francisco featuring solely Asian American drag queens, and through ongoing performances and outreach efforts, they’re not quitting anytime soon.

Follow Kyle Casey Chu on Twitter and Instagram.



Julie Baret 「L’œuvre charnelle de Ren Hang, l’artiste qui dérangeait la Chine」

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©Ren Hang

La semaine dernière, l’artiste-photographe Ren Hang nous a quitté. Il était âgé de 29 ans. Considéré par beaucoup comme un prodige, son œuvre laisse un empreinte corrosive dans le monde de la photographie.

Des corps nus qui s’entremêlent et qui se dédoublent jusqu’à faire perdre au public tout repère anatomique, un sexe d’homme devenu sujet d’un cliché toujours capturée à l’argentique, des parties féminines photographiées de manière frontale. Parfois du fétichisme.

Des corps blancs et des cheveux noirs de jais mêlé à la peau muqueuse d’un poulpe, aux plumes multicolore d’un pan, aux ailes d’un papillon. Fiché en haut d’un building qui surplombe une triste métropole acérée de grattes-ciel, perdu dans la nature ou installé dans l’intimité d’une chambre anonyme.

Ren Hang, né le 30 mars 1987 au nord-est de la Chine, débute la photographie pendant des études de marketing et de publicité qui l’ennuient profondément. Il tire le portrait de ses voisins de couloir, de ses amis et de ses proches. Puis bientôt de fans qui le sollicitent par internet.

Des œuvres qui font rougir voire qui dérangent, qui questionne le rapport au corps, et l’utilisation du corps comme messager du politique, bien que Ren Hang nie toute intersectionnalité entre ses travaux et le régime communiste :

Les idées politiques exprimées dans mes images n’ont rien à voir avec la Chine. C’est la politique chinoise qui veut s’introduire dans mon art.

Dans son pays natal, ses travaux font scandale. Sans surprise. Autant pour l’exposition sans gêne d’une nudité qui sert souvent le scénario homosexuel, que pour la poudre provocante que laissent ses photos sur leur passage.

Le gouvernement chinois lui reproche de faire de la pornographie. Son profil Weibo (le premier réseau social chinois) est censuré, ses œuvres interdites, ses expositions écourtées. Au même moment, ses photographies sont exposées à Tokyo, Paris, New York, Stockholm, Athènes, Bangkok, Londres... ainsi qu’à Pékin.

Ren Hang avait seulement 29 ans quand il est mort, le 24 février, après une longue dépression qui a rythmé sa vie comme son travail ; un suicide selon ses proches. La maison d’édition Taschen venait de lui consacrée une monographie, en janvier 2017. Un ouvrage qui s’ajoute à la quinzaine de livres déjà publiés par l’artiste au sommet de son art, et à un recueil de poèmes.

Difficile de ne pas tracer l’odyssée de son oeuvre sans se voir confronter à la pudeur, la nôtre et celle des algorithmes qui censurent les hommages qui lui sont adressés sur Facebook ou Instagram, en raison de la nudité crue qui bouscule ses photographies. Ren Hang continue à titre posthume d’interroger nos limites. Peut-être pour les repousser encore plus loin.

Les œuvres de Ren Hang sont visibles sur son site officiel, sur son compte Instagram et sur sa page Flickr.

©Ren Hang





Sora Hwang 「‘The Good Place’’s Manny Jacinto on Playing a Non-Stereotypical Asian Role」

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Photos by Dianne Doan

There is nothing stereotypical about Jason Mendoza, Manny Jacinto’s character on 「The Good Place」.

For starters, he uses “dawg” in every other sentence, aspires to be a professional DJ, and isn’t exactly the brightest bulb.

“He’s not your typical hardworking nerdy Asian stereotype,” Jacinto says of his comedic role. “He is the complete opposite and it pushes forward a sense that not every Asian is going to be smart and hardworking.”

The show’s writers crafted Jason that way intentionally, Jacinto explains, because they noticed that “there are no dumb Asians in mainstream media.” His easygoing, simpleminded personality is exactly what Jacinto loves about his character.

But Jason’s vernacular and lack of intellect aren’t the only unconventional things about him in Hollywood. Aside from being mistaken for a Buddhist monk named Jianyu Li in what seems like the show’s version of heaven – aptly referred to as “the good place” – his ethnicity is never explicitly addressed.

“His culture doesn’t make up his character,” Jacinto explains. Though the fact that he’s from Taiwan is in the script, “he’s not defined by his ethnicity, so you don’t hear him speak Tagalog or Mandarin or whatever it may be. He’s really, at the end of the day, a person, just like any other individual.” Even when Jason speaks to a friend of color, “they’re having a normal conversation as people. It’s not something you see in mainstream media at all – usually, there’s some sort of cultural joke.”

The Canadian actor understands the importance of addressing racial differences, but he believes the opposite end of the spectrum, like Jason’s character in NBC’s hit comedy, is just as necessary. “When you step away from [introducing a culture] and you have a person of color just being a regular person, you start changing people’s mindset in the idea that, ‘Oh, I can see myself in this person even though we’re a different color,’” he says.

Though he continues to look up to Asian American actors like John Cho and Daniel Dae Kim, Jacinto came to another realization that further breaks the mold.

“When I asked my African Canadian friend who his favorite actors were, he didn’t necessarily name specific African American actors. He started naming just all-around actors,” Jacinto recalls. “I was like, ‘Wait a minute, why can’t I have that same thing?’ So then, I started to look at other actors like Gary Oldman, Tom Hardy, and Benedict Cumberbatch.”

One day, Jacinto hopes to be a similar role model for younger generations, but especially for those who don’t see anyone who looks like them on screen. “I want to be able to inspire the next kid, the young kid, to have somebody to look up to in a sense, that they can be this or be that,” he says. “That was the biggest part for me – for Asian males specifically to not just be an Asian nerd or an Asian martial artist.”

His passion stems from personal experiences, having faced discrimination firsthand. “I’ve had jobs as a server or bartender where they’ll assume that I’ll do the work [and] that I can be taken advantage of because they think we’re a subservient culture,” Jacinto shares. “There’s always that assumption and it sucks that that happens still to this day.”

The continued normality of demeaning jokes and stereotypes against Asian men (most recently, from Steve Harvey) has pushed Jacinto to strive for change in the medium he can best contribute to: movies and television.

“It really kills me how Asian males are being emasculated, especially in TV and film,” he says. “I’ve definitely been a victim of discrimination and that’s one of the biggest reasons that I stay in this game – so I can change that.”

Jacinto has given himself a mammoth goal, but with his philosophy, he’s on the right track.

“Bottom line: We are actors first. We are creators first. We are artists first,” he says. ”And by taking hold of that identity rather than being an Asian actor, we can do a lot more.”





Alexa Tietjen 「Ross Butler on Working With Selena Gomez and Shattering Asian Stereotypes」

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Ross Butler by Dan Doperalski

The actor plays Zach in 「13 Reasons Why」, out on March 31 via Netflix.

Ross Butler decided early in his career that he had had enough of Hollywood’s stereotyping. The actor – of American, British and Chinese descent – grew frustrated that the only roles he seemed to get called in for were “Asian roles” like “the martial artist or the nerd.” So he put his foot down.

“I told my team, ‘I don’t want to go out for Asian roles anymore,’” Butler says. He found himself in a dark period immediately following, but soon enough, he got called in for roles that didn’t specify an ethnicity. And he started booking them.

The 26-year-old now plays fictional teen Reggie Mantle on 「Riverdale」 and has also landed a part in Netflix’s 「13 Reasons Why」, Selena Gomez’s passion project based on Jay Asher’s 2007 novel. Butler plays Zach, a high school jock and one of the reasons why the show’s main character, Hannah (Katherine Langford), decided to take her own life.

“People in high school either feel like they’re with the cool kids in a clique or they’re isolated – there’s no in-between,” Butler says. “I wasn’t bullied or anything, but I didn’t really fit in. I think Zach has a feeling of that. Even though he’s seen as a popular kid, he’s actually really lonely. It’s that mixed with high school, where you have to put on this facade of who you are.”

He describes Gomez, an executive producer on the show, as “super down-to-earth” and not what he expected from someone who’s been in the spotlight for about a decade. Castmate Tommy Dorfman echoed this sentiment at an event in New York City earlier this month.

“She’s superhumble and supportive and obviously has a lot of experience to share,” Dorfman said of Gomez. “A lot of us are really new to this industry and she was there as an amazing resource. She’s so passionate about this book and this story being told.”

Gomez’s devotion to the project stems in part from her own struggles. She completed a 90-day stint in rehab last year to help her cope with anxiety and depression. Butler alludes to this time, saying Gomez was able to offer the cast “a lot of insight.”

“She was dealing with a lot of personal things a year ago,” Butler says of the actress-turned-singer. “Talking to her about that gave us a new perspective on the subject and how anybody can be affected by these things.” Through conversing with Gomez and working on the show, Butler was inspired to learn more about suicide prevention and depression diagnosis and how to have meaningful conversations about both of these.

“Try to imagine what it’s like to be this girl who’s getting bullied and is supercrushed to the point where she’d wanna take her own life,” he says. “All of our actions have consequences whether we know it or not. We never know what people are going through until something tragic happens – if they don’t talk about it.”

While he waits to see whether 「13 Reasons Why」 will get picked up for a second season, Butler continues to focus on shattering Asian stereotypes.

“Why can’t we have an Asian Brad Pitt or an Asian Ryan Gosling? Those type of roles, lead males,” he says. “I see this gap in the industry now where there isn’t an Asian leading man.”

He says he’s been auditioning for “leading” roles in which “the guy gets the girl at the end.” Perhaps he’s on his way to filling that void in the industry. At any rate, he says these potential projects are signs of “a good trending change.”

Author: Alexa Tietjen/Date: March 30, 2017/Source: http://wwd.com/eye/people/ross-butler-selena-gomez-asian-stereotypes-10851580/




Louis Hanson 「An identity complex: growing up gay and Asian in rural Australia」

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“You’re not alone. There are many people out there just like you. You will always be loved for whoever you are.”

“The other day, I came across a profile that said ‘no spice or rice’ and another that said ‘love Asian food – just not Asian men’. It was horrible, but I mean, you’ve got to laugh.”

Carlos is inspiring. Despite growing up as one of the only Asian families in a rural community, and having to negotiate his sexuality around his family’s cultural expectations, he is proud to be gay, and equally as proud of his Asian roots. This defiant pride is inspiring in itself.

Carlos was born in the Philippines, but moved to Wangaratta when he was young. “It felt hard for me, though, at the time, coming from a religious background with no gay Asian role models.”

There wasn’t anyone in his family, school or friendship circle who was part of the LGBTQIA+ community. “I didn’t know anyone who was openly out, especially in Wangaratta,” he remembers. “The only Asian person that I took notice of in the media, when I was growing up, was Jackie Chan.” It’s true; Screen Australia found that, in 2015, only 7% of main characters in Australian television were of Asian, African or Middle Eastern descent, despite accounting for 17% of the Australian population – And that’s not even considering a gay character.

Carlos went to Church twice a week until he was 20; his parents are part of a Filipino denomination of Christianity. “It’s an important part of my parents and older sister’s lives, however my other siblings and I are less involved in the religion.”

“I think there is a lot of expectation that comes from parents of Asian decent, which they place onto their children,” he notes. “When my parents migrated to Australia for a better life, they wanted their children to have more than what they did. They worked hard to give their children a solid education and a better start in life.”

With this opportunity, there is also the expectation that their children will succeed, such as getting into university, finding a solid job, meeting a partner and starting a family. “Having a homosexual child doesn’t normally fit into this equation.”

He first became aware of his sexuality when he was quite young. “I used to watch 90210 with my sisters and I remember thinking that Luke Perry was cute.” He loved competing in athletics and playing Barbies. He also played football in primary school because, as a boy, he thought he had to. When he was going to high school in Wangaratta, he felt the need to hide his sexuality; after all, it was the mid 2000’s and he was in a rural town with only one openly gay person in school. His family was also one of the only Asian families at his first high school and, when he was in his teens, he rejected his family’s culture because he wanted to fit in.

He was bullied a lot. It wasn’t as though he was embarrassed of his heritage when he was younger; he just didn’t want to be different to his peers and to be ridiculed for it. So, it wasn’t until after high school, at 18, when he came out to his friends and siblings. They were supportive, as they’d always defended Carlos at school throughout the bullying.

He was initially reluctant to tell his parents, given their religious views. But, At 20, he told his mother. He told her that he was gay, and also depressed. She responded that, if it was the one thing that was going to impend on him living his life, then he had nothing to worry about. Carlos then asked her to tell his father because he was too scared to see his reaction. “I saw him a few months afterwards (my parents still lived in Wangaratta while I lived in Melbourne),” he notes. “And he told me he loved me as whoever I was. It felt like a weight was lifted. My life really turned around after that point.”

However, after a recent family holiday, Carlos discovered that his father’s side of the family had no knowledge of him being gay – despite coming out over a decade ago. He considers himself quite lucky, though; it’s not always easy to come out to your parents, especially when they have strong religious beliefs. “I think it’s hard to come out for anyone regardless of ethnic background,” he says.

But, to Carlos, ‘coming out’ isn’t necessarily essential anymore. “Your sexuality isn’t anyone else’s business.” This is especially pertinent when considering his work as a stylist, a field that arguably allows for greater expression of sexuality than most career paths. “My work is an extension of who I am, and I have produced work that reflects my sexuality. That’s the beauty of working in the creative industry – you can do whatever you want in your own personal work.”

That being said, as an Asian man, does he think it is harder to fit into the LGBTQIA+ community? “I think we have a presence, and a particular pool of men that are into us. However, if the whole community were going to rank what race they would prefer to be with, I think we would be on the bottom.”

With this in mind, what would he say to his 15-year-old self? With no queer Asian role models in his rural community to look up to, and with casual racism flourishing within the community, Carlos is a defiant product of his time.

He pauses.

“You’re not alone. There are many people out there just like you. You will always be loved for whoever you are.”

Louis Hanson 「Mahirap na unawaing pagkakakilanlan: lumaking isang gay at Asyano sa rural Australia」


“Hindi ka nag-iisa. Maraming mga tao na tulad mo. Ikaw ay palaging mamahalin kahit sino ka man.”

“Noong isang araw, aking nakita ang isang profile na nagsasabi na ‘walang pampalasa o kanin’ (‘no spice or rice’) at isa pa na nagsasabi na ‘mahal ko ang pagkaing Asyano - hindi nga lang ang mga Asyanong kalalakihan’ (‘love Asian food – just not Asian men’). Ito ay nakakagulat, ngunit, kailangan mong tawanan na lamang ito.”

Si Carlos ay nakakahanga. Sa kabila na lumaki bilang sa isa lamang sa ilang Asyanong pamilya sa isang rural na komunidad, at kinailangang inegosasyon ang kanyang sekswalidad sa kultural na inaasahan ng kanyang pamilya, ipinagmamalaki niya na maging isang bakla, at gayundin ipinagmamalaki niya ang kanyang pinagmulang Asyano. Ang matapang na pagsuway na ito mismo ay nakakahanga na.

Si Carlos ay ipinanganak sa Pilipinas, ngunit lumipat at nanirahan sa Wangaratta nang siya ay bata pa. “Ito ay naging mahirap para sa akin, sa panahong iyon, bilang nagmula sa isang pamilya na relihiyoso na walang nakikitang bakla na Asyanong huwaran.”

Walang sinuman sa kanyang pamilya, mga kamag-aral o kaibigan ay bahagi ng komunidad LGBTQIA+. “Wala akong kakilala na lantad, lalo na sa Wangaratta,” sa kanyang pag-alala. “Ang tanging Asyano na kanyang napapansin sa media, habang siya ay nagkakaisip, ay si Jackie Chan.” Ito ay totoo; Napag-alaman ng Screen Australia na noong taong 2015, tanging 7% ng mga pangunahing karakter sa telebisyon sa Australya ay mga may pinagmulang Asyano, Aprikano o mula sa Gitnang Silangan, sa kabila ng sila ay bumubuo ng 17% ng Australyanong populasyon — at ito ang bilang na ito ay hindi pa nga itinuturing na isang karakter na bakla.

Si Carlos ay pumupunta sa simbahan dalawang beses kada isang linggo hanggang sa siya ay dumating sa gulang na 20; ang kanyang mga magulang ay bahagi ng bilang ng mga Pilipinong Kristiyano. “Ito ay isang mahalagang bahagi ng mga buhay ng kanyang mga magulang at kapatid na babae, ngunit ako at ang aking ibang kapatid ay hindi masyadong nauugnay sa relihiyon.”

“Sa tingin ko, malaki ang inaasahan ng mga magulang na mula sa may mga pinagmulang Asyano, na kanilang inilalagay sa kanilang mga anak,” sa kanyang tala. “Nang lumipat at nanirahan ang aking mga magulang sa Australya para sa isang mas mahusay na buhay, nais nila na ang kanilang mga anak na magkaroon ng higit sa kung ano ang kanilang nagawa. Sila ay nagtrabaho nang husto upang bigyan ang kanilang mga anak ng isang matibay na edukasyon at isang mas mahusay na panimula sa buhay.”

Sa ganitong pagkakataon, inaasahan din na ang kanilang mga anak ay magtagumpay, tulad ng pagpasok sa unibersidad, makahanap ng matatag na trabaho, magkaroon ng asawa at magsimula ng pamilya. “Ang pagkakaroon ng isang homosexual na anak ay hindi pangkaraniwang naayon sa ekwasyong ito.”

Una siyang nagkaroon ng kamalayan sa kanyang sekswalidad nang siya medyo bata pa. “Dati akong nanonood ng 90210 kasama ng aking mga kapatid na babae at naaalala ko na sa aking tingin si Luke Perry ay guwapo.” Siya ay mahilig sumali sa athletics at paglalaro ng mga Barbie. Naglaro din siya ng football noong siya'y nasa elementarya, dahil, bilang isang bata, sa tingin niya ay dapat niya itong gawin. Nang siya ay nasa hayskul na sa Wangaratta, ramdam niya ang pangangailangan na itago ang kanyang sekswalidad; dahil iyo ay nasa kalagitnaan ng taong dalawang libo, at siya ay nakatira sa isang rural na bayan na mayroon lamang isang lantad na baklang tao sa paaralan. At ang kanyang pamilya ay isa sa iilan lamang na Asyanong pamilya sa kanyang unang paaralan sa sekondarya, at nang siya ay nagbibinat, inawayan niya ang kultura ng kanyang pamilya dahil nais niyang mapabilang sa komunidad.

Siya ay madalas na ma-bully. Ito ay hindi kasing-hirap na siya ang mapahiya sa kanyang pinagmula nang siya ay mas bata pa; hindi lamang niay nais na maging iba sa kanyang mga ka-edad at kantiyawan para dito. Kaya, pagkatapos ng hayskul, sa edad na 18, siya ay lumantad sa kanyang mga kaibigan at kapatid. Sila ay nagpakita ng suporta sa kanya, tulad ng palagi nilang pagtatanggol kay Carlos sa paaralan sa mga pang-aapi.

Sa una siya ay nag-atubili na sabihin sa kanyang mga magulang, dahil sa kanilang mga pananaw sa relihiyon. Ngunit, sa gulang na 20, sinabi niya ito sa kaniyang ina. Sinabi niya sa kanyang ina na siya ay bakla, at siya din ay nalulumbay. Sumagot ang kanyang ina, na, kung ito ay ang isang bagay na magpapahinto sa kanyan na magpatuloy sa kanyang buhay,kung gayon, wala siyang dapat ipag-alala tungkol dito. At pagkatapos, hiniling ni Carlos sa kanyang ina na sabihin ito sa kanyang ama, dahil masyado siyang takot na makita ang reaksyon ng kanyang ama. “Nakita ko siya ilang buwan matapos ito (nakatira pa rin sa Wangaratta ang aking mga magulang habang ako ay nakatira sa Melbourne),” sa kanyang pag-alala. “At sinabi niya sa akin mahal niya ako kung sino pa man ako. Parang gumaan ang aking dalahin. At tunay na nagbago ang buhay ko sa puntong iyon.”

Subalit, pagkatapos ng isang kamakailan lamang na bakasyon ng pamilya, natuklasan ni Carlos na mga kamag-anak niya sa panig ng kanyang ama ay walang nalalaman sa kanyang pagiging bakla - sa kabila ng paglantad mahigit isang dekada na ang nakalipas. Itinuturing niya ang sarili bilang lubos na masuwerteng, sa kabila nito; hindi laging madali na lumantad sa iyong mga magulang, lalo na kapag sila ay may malakas na paniniwala sa relihiyon. “Sa tingin ko, mahirap para sa sinuman na umamin, anopaman ang etnikong pinagmulan ng isang tao,” dagdag niya.

Ngunit, para kay Carlos, ‘ang kanyang paglantad’ ay hindi na mahalaga. “Ang iyong sekswalidad ay hindi na dapat pakialaman ng sinuman.” Ito ay lalong may kinalaman kapag isinasa-alang-alang ang kanyang trabaho bilang isang stylist, isang larangan na pumapayag para sa higit na pagpapahayag ng sekswalidad kumpara sa ibang larangan. “Ang aking trabaho ay karugtong ng kung sino ako, at nakagawa ako ng mga trabaho na sumasalamin ng aking sekswalidad. Iyong ang ganda ng pagta-trabaho sa isang masining na industriya - maaari mong gawin anuman ang nais mo sa iyong personal na gawain.”

Sa pagsabi nito, bilang isang Asyano, sa tingin ba niya na mas mahirap na makibagay sa komunidad LGBTQIA+? “Sa palagay ko, may presensya ang mga Asyano, at isang partikular na hanay ng mga kalalakihan ay nagkakagusto sa amin. Gayunpaman, kung ira-ranggo ng buong komunidad kung anong lahi ang mas gusto nilang makasama, sa tingin ko, ang mga Asyano ay nasa bandang hulihan.”

Ito ang nasa sa isip, ano ang kanyang masasabi ang kanyang 15-taong-gulang na sarili? Sa walang kakaibang Asyanong role model sa kanyang rural na komunidad na maaaring tularan, at may paminsan-misan na rasismo na umuusbong sa loob ng komunidad, si Carlos ay isang pa-salungat na produkto ng kanyang panahon.

Siya ay tunigil sandali.

“Ikaw ay nag-iisa. Maraming mga tao na katulad mo. Ikaw ay palaging mamahalin kahit sino ka man.”

Louis Hanson is freelance writer, student at the University of Melbourne, and LGBTQIA+ youth advocate. Instagram: @louishanson ; website: louishanson.com. Carlos’ Instagram: @carlosmangubat.
Image: Chris Mangubat (Instagram: @babysweetmango).



Curtis M. Wong 「The Most Beautiful Acceptance Speech This Week Came From A Queer Korean」

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Film Independent 「SPA NIGHT wins the John Cassavetes Award at the 2017 Film Independent Spirit Awards」 - posted on February 25, 2017.

His speech advocated for immigrants, Muslims, women, people of color and trans and queer folk.

Andrew Ahn set a Hollywood precedent last year with his feature-length directorial debut, 「Spa Night」. The film, which premiered at the 2016 Sundance Film Festival to great acclaim, brought the queer Asian-American experience to the big screen with nuance.

The plight of the Asian LGBTQ community was once again on the writer-director’s mind Saturday when 「Spa Night」 was honored with the 2017 John Cassavetes Award at the Independent Spirit Awards in Los Angeles. In a moving, politically charged speech, Ahn stressed the importance of diversity in Hollywood at a time when many minority groups are facing an uncertain future.

“This is so meaningful that this is going to a film about a Korean-American immigrant family, about queer Korean people,” Ahn said in the speech, which can be viewed above. “Now, more than ever, it’s so important that we support stories told by, and about, communities that are marginalized. That we tell stories about immigrants, about Muslims, women, people of color, trans and queer folk.”

He continued, “Film is such a powerful tool in humanizing these communities, so that we can’t be pushed aside [and] labeled as other. We are part of this great country, and we are undeniable.”

The most personal moment of the speech came at its conclusion, when Ahn thanked his parents for “understanding that their gay Korean-American son is their son.”

The John Cassavetes Award is given annually to the best feature film made for under $500,000. Ahn raised the bulk of the funds for 「Spa Night」, a coming-of-age film about a young man who discovers an underground world of gay sex when he takes a job at a Korean spa, via a Kickstarter campaign.

Here’s to hoping that “Spa Day” is paying the way for more queer Asian narratives in film and other mediums.

Curtis M. Wong
Queer Voices Senior Editor, HuffPost
Curtis M. Wong is the Senior Editor of Queer Voices at HuffPost. He has written for『The Prague Post』,『Passport Magazine』,『The Hartford Courant』,『Business Insurance Weekly』, Abu Dhabi’s『The National』and Ohio’s『Akron Jewish News』, among other publications.




Curtis M. Wong 「How The Joys (And Struggles) Of The Queer Asian Experience Inspired A New Podcast」

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WNYC’s 「Nancy」 delivers frank talk and provocative dish.

When they met at the Transom Story Workshop for radio professionals in 2013, Tobin Low and Kathy Tu immediately clicked. Still, it would take the pair nearly four years to decide on a project that they found professionally satisfying.

“We just sort of immediately clung to each other. There was an immediate chemistry,” Low, 30, told HuffPost. “We were trying to create the thing that we wish we had when we were young.”

Both Low and Tu believe they’ve found the perfect outlet for their creative passions in their new WNYC Studios podcast, the cheekily titled 「Nancy」. When it launched on April 9, 「Nancy」 promised “provocative stories and frank discussions about the LGBTQ experience,” and it’s safe to say that, five episodes in, it’s lived up to that vow.

Watch a short video of Low and Tu discussing LGBTQ stereotypes.



The 12-episode show’s latest installment, released April 30, took an in-depth – if somewhat skeptical – look at『Harry Potter』author J.K. Rowling’s implication that Albus Dumbledore is gay. Other episodes have featured gay porn stars, coming out stories and interviews with supporters of President Donald Trump who happen to identify as LGBTQ.

Queer-themed podcasts, of course, are nothing new. But Low and Tu, 31, believe 「Nancy」 is unique in that their podcast examines LGBTQ issues through an Asian-American lens. Though she and Low were raised in California, Tu was born in Taiwan, a fact which she believes factors heavily into the content and tone of 「Nancy」. The debut episode, 「Hello, hello」, saw Tu sitting down with her Taiwanese-American mother, who has thus far struggled to accept her daughter’s sexuality, for an emotional series of conversations.

Listen to the first episode below.



“We loved this kind of storytelling, and we wanted to bring it to things that we’re passionate about, which have a lot to do with our identities,” Low said. “We’re both queer, we’re both Asian, we’re both radio producers, so it was like, how can we make something that’s informed by all of those things and bring them together?”

As for as the podcast’s name, Tu and Low brainstormed (and eventually scrapped) a number of other options. Eventually, they chose 「Nancy」 in an effort to reclaim a derogatory, if antiquated, term used to refer to effeminate gay men.

“We went through a laundry list of all the puns that we could possibly think of,” Tu said. “None of them really sat right because they were either too on the nose or too weird.” Eventually, they settled on the name, which Tu said “worked out great. It refers to a part of culture. It’s sort of reclaiming that.”

Listeners seem to have taken to the first 12-episode season of 「Nancy」 thus far. Since its launch last month, the podcast has been featured in both『The Guardian』and on NBC;『New York Magazine』’s Vulture blog said the show is indicative of “an empathetic sense of how it feels to be young, searching and a work in progress.”

In the second episode, Low searches for an openly gay Asian male porn star.



Still, Tu and Low are aware that the debut of their podcast comes at a time when the LGBTQ community is facing an uncertain future in the Trump era.

“We always want it to be a place where people, especially queer people, would come, listen and feel affirmed,” Low said. “One thing we really try to do is let people tell their own stories in a way that engages in both what is difficult about their experience, and also what is joyful.”

Though Tu and Low are proud of the buzz that 「Nancy」 has been received, they’re already planning ahead for the future. The pair said they would love to feature stage and screen star B.D. Wong in a future episode, as well as 「Golden Girls」 icon Betty White.

“I just really want to put something good and positive into the world,” Tu said, “and this accomplishes that, 100 percent.”

Want more 「Nancy」? Head here or listen on iTunes here.

For the latest in LGBTQ entertainment, check out the Queer Voices newsletter.

Curtis M. Wong
Queer Voices Senior Editor, HuffPost
Curtis M. Wong is the Senior Editor of Queer Voices at HuffPost. He has written for『The Prague Post』,『Passport Magazine』,『The Hartford Courant』,『Business Insurance Weekly』, Abu Dhabi’s『The National』and Ohio’s『Akron Jewish News』, among other publications.



Kathy Tu
Official Website: http://www.kathytu.com/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/_ktu



MeseMoa. めせもあ。「Shadow Kiss」

Mike Miksche 「Circuit Parties Began Fading in North America a Decade Ago – Why Are They So Hot in Asia?」

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On Saturday, hordes of gay men and other dance lovers will descend upon a club space in Manhattan for the 「Black Party」, an edgier, kinkier underground variant of the “circuit party,” a gay institution that has, for better or worse, defined a certain strain of macho, drug-embracing, sex-positive party culture since their initial appearance around 1980. Circuit parties can be found all over the globe – on the circuit, as it were – from Palm Springs and Paris to Barcelona and Bangkok. But regardless of locale, the basics are the same: They feature local and world-class DJ talent and performers, have immersive production values, and are held in large venues filled with writhing, shirtless men.

Speaking of Bangkok, I just finished up a two-month stint living there, and while I had arrived expecting surprises, the existence of a circuit party was not one of them. Just as I was preparing to move, I came across a trailer for one.


「WHITE PARTY BANGKOK 2017 | Official Trailer #2」 - posted on November 30, 2016.

It was based on the original 「White Party」, which started in Palm Springs, California, in 1989.* The Palm Springs festival is still around, the style and aesthetic same as it always was – ads feature chiseled alpha males in speedos, flexing and posing. The Bangkok homage, named 「The White Party Bangkok」, takes place over New Years and is produced in collaboration with the founder of the Palm Springs festival, Jeffrey Sanker. The trailer mimics that old school American circuit style with beautiful, buff men outfitted in aviators and designer underwear.

Despite the familiarity, seeing the video stirred the same sort of excitement I used to feel prior to attending one of these events over a decade years ago. It transported me back to that time when circuit parties were at the peak of their popularity in North America. Even the soundtrack triggered nostalgia, with a circuit remix (yes, it’s a whole style) of Abba’s 「Voulez-Vous」. But nostalgia is not exactly enough to fuel a lively cultural form. The remix’s tribal sound is from another time; its basic beats have since evolved to techno, deep house, or nu disco in the trendier queer club scenes. And many of the DJs who brought this genre to thousands of rolling queens have moved on as well: People like Victor Calderone who, back in the day, had famously remixed Madonna’s 「Ray of Light」, has since gone on to more techno work and is playing some of the biggest EDM festivals around the world.

Overall, the gay party scene just seems so much more eclectic these days. There are groups like Horse Meat Disco headlining parties around the world, re-introducing the homos to that glittery ’70s sound while re-inventing it at the same time. I’ve seen them pack the Output venue in Brooklyn with guys dancing into the morning hours, seduced by smooth strings and that original four-on-the-floor rhythm. And then there are events like 「Burning Man」, where we have our own LGBTQ theme camps in Black Rock Desert. We’ve come so far from that circuit vibe, with it’s non-inclusive standards of beauty and its stale sound. Of course, there are still many devout followers – but they kind of feel like those punks who won’t let go of the whole hardcore thing.

However, what seems played out to some can be revolutionary for others. According to Blue Satittammanoon, the producer and organizer of 「White Party Bangkok」, the circuit scene in Asia is as fresh as new wave. This specific party is only in its second year, and the most recent festival saw approximately 13,000 patrons over the course of three days. That’s up from 12,000 who attended the previous year, when every single party at the festival sold out. As I dug deeper, I learned that similar such parties were happening all over Asia, creating a circuit of their own spanning from Bangkok to Seoul, and Shanghai to Tokyo. Given that the circuit scene in North America has been slowing down for the last decade or so, it’s surprising that the practice would catch on in Asia now, and with such strong appeal. To find out why, I decided to reach out to local organizers – but first, I reflected on what drew me to circuit all those years ago.

I began fashioning myself as a circuit queen in the early to mid 2000s. I’d just come out and moved to the “big city,” which for me was Toronto, having grown up in a small town in southwestern Ontario. I got an office job, began earning a decent salary where they gave me my own desk and box of business cards. I had disposable income for the first time in my life, too, so I was poised to become a circuit boy – it’s not a cheap lifestyle, given the steep cover charges, necessary synthetic drugs, and travel expenses.

The first circuit festival I attended coincided with Pride weekend in Toronto. It was the first time that I’d ever taken ecstasy, and I still remember the feeling of coming up on the pills – problems that I’d been having with my family seemed to untangle themselves in time with the beat. we weren’t speaking after my coming out, but on the dance floor that didn’t matter. I’d resolved all our issues ... in my head, at least ... with chemically induced reasoning. I soon felt an intense euphoria just by moving my body with all those other men, with my people. Eventually I took my shirt off, comfortable enough to flaunt my body, proudly enjoying my sexuality and losing myself in the lights and sounds. It was fabulous. The drugs were fabulous. I felt so beautiful that night.

Inevitably, all my problems came right back when the weekend was over; but to escape from them, even for a bit, made them much more bearable. From that Friday on, I did “e” pretty much every weekend for years, in addition to gradually incorporating other drugs to take the edge off, like ketamine and coke.

I got buff, hitting the gym twice as hard, traded in my ironic graphic tees for skin tight muscle shirts, and even attempted to shave my body hair – smooth skin being the coin of the circuit realm. Being a very hirsute gentleman made the chest shaving problematic. The first time I tried, I just used a razor, but it turned out a mess since I still had so much hair on my thighs and lower back. I used Nair the next time, which worked, but left me freaked out by how easily the hair came off. I decided in the end that the best way to fit in was to just keep the chest hair trim. People seemed okay with that. In fact, there was even a niche market for it back then, well before beards and body hair were hip.

In circuit culture – both on the dance floor and in the effort it took to look the part – I found I was so much more than the “faggot” my family had said I was. I got in shape, I had my own phone extension at work, and I went to fun parties with beautiful, interesting people all the time.

I was following in a disco ball-lit path that thousands of gay men before me had strutted down. The circuit party started with men travelling between the The Saint in New York, The Probe in Los Angles, and Hotlanta in Atlanta. Many more parties followed all over North America, including Sanker’s 「White Party」 in the late ’80s. Although some of the events today are purely for profit, during the AIDS epidemic in the ’80s and ’90s many became a way to raise funds for HIV/AIDS service providers. They were also where the community could come together and celebrate life during tough times, while remembering those who had passed. But as the immediate threat of AIDS faded – and gays were afforded more and more social opportunities outside of our ghettos – the popularity of circuit declined.

To find out what was happening in Asia during those early days of American circuit scene, I spoke to Yoshida Toshinobu, the Promoter of 「Shangri-La」, which is the leading party series of its kind in Tokyo. “Other than in Japan, the doors to the gay scene hadn't been opened yet,” he explained via email through a translator. “So in the ’80s and ’90s, most gays had to remain closeted. The only fun they could have was going to regular clubs. In Japan, there were gay nights every weekend, and house music was in its heyday.”

Although the 「White Party Bangkok」 only got starred back in 2015, a semblance of a circuit scene was forming in Japan, Taiwan, and Singapore fifteen years earlier, according to Toshinobu. Other countries like Thailand, China, and South Korea joined later on. The 「Shangri-La」 parties began back in 2003, just when the scene in North America was slowing down. They hosted five parties the first year, drawing 10,991 patrons total. 13 years later there was only a slight reduction in numbers, with 10,714 people attending their five events. So what makes circuit so vital to the Asian scene when, in its homeland, the necessity of it was largely obsolete?

“Now we’re seeing a kind of normalization of gay,” Russell Westhaver told me over the phone. He was careful not to imply that gay lives were adversity-free today, but just that there’s an increase in recognition of same-sex rights in the West. Westhaver is an Associate Professor at Saint Mary’s University in Halifax, and he has spent many years writing about and studying the circuit scene as a participant and observer, though he admitted his last real party was 2003’s 「Black and Blue」 in Montreal. “I think as we become normalized we can occupy public spaces in these somewhat more comfortable ways,” he explained. “The need for collective confirmation, these sub rosa or hidden or alternative spaces becomes less of an issue.”

Of course, Japan is different than North America, and Thailand has its own situation as well. Though a city like Bangkok can seem like a paradise for gay tourists, with a number of gay nightclubs, saunas, and go-go bars, there are no anti-discrimination laws protecting the LGBTQ community who actually live there. Same-sex marriage is yet to be recognized. There’s even a sort of conversion therapy for transgendered youth.

Despite Toshinobu’s portrait of Japan’s relative cultural openness, anti-discrimination laws and recognition of same-sex marriage aren’t any better in Japan or the countries in the region making up this Asian circuit. Taiwan may become the exception, where late last year a marriage equality bill was approved by a legislative committee that could lead to the legalization of same-sex marriage. Still, to say that homosexuality has been ‘normalized’ like in North America is a stretch.

So could the lack of LGBTQ rights explain the popularity of the circuit scene in Asia?

Although his understanding of Asia is admittedly limited, if Westhaver were to guess, he’d say yes: “I think it’d be generally fair to say that when the rights of gay people are not particularly secure, when they are fundamentally marginalized in ways that they’re probably not in North America, they would experience the same kind of challenges that I think circuit parties in North America spoke to, which is a visceral celebration; being present in the moment; a kind of abandonment where you could be fundamentally who you are at a bodily level.”

Traditionally, these circuit parties are a place for gay men to be themselves – a sentiment Satittammanoon had expressed several times. “There’s something magical when thousands of gay men come together,” he said. “You feel like you’re part of a community that’s bigger than yourself; it’s empowering at the same time.”

“For those brief hours, you’re the majority. You feel the power on the dance floor,” Stephen Pevner, the executive director of The Saint at Large told me from his office in New York. (The Saint at Large produces 「The Black Party」 each year.) “I think [the circuit] follows wherever gay people who feel oppressed are gaining a mental picture of where they could be going.”

Since it’d been so long since Westhaver had been to a circuit party, I was curious what he thought about them after all these years. He described them as a necessary and “fraught” site of affirmation: “It was a place where gay men who, at one level, may have felt and experienced a great degree of marginalization could confirm themselves in a bunch of different ways in a narrower sense. It served the same function as gay pride does, more generally.”

Westhaver uses the word fraught to mean “neutral complicated.” He appreciates the positive aspects of the circuit, such as the connection one can feel with others and the freedom to express oneself through dance. But he also sees the negatives, like valuing particular notions beauty, the close connection the scene has with drug use and addiction, as well as the possibility of risky sexual behavior that comes with excessive drug use. Ultimately, he sees the circuit as a place of both empowerment and danger.

I eventually stopped going to circuit parties because I grew to prefer trance and techno music over that circuit and tribal sound. After arriving at a party and being there for an hour or two, I’d slip away from my friends and go to one of the underground clubs in the city that weren’t gay per se, but were certainly gay-friendly. That was in 2006, and same-sex marriage had been legalized in Canada a year earlier, which might be why I was finding more and more straight techno clubs that were gay-friendly. I started bringing fuck buddies and lovers with me, and we’d dance together all night long, grinding and kissing. Nobody said a thing to us and I felt more myself at these places than I did at circuit parties, because I didn’t need to assimilate to a certain look. I haven’t trimmed my chest hair since.

That said, I owe a lot to the circuit scene because it was a stepping stone toward self-acceptance. Once I left that world and started going to straight venues, I felt empowered in a different way, because I was able to be gay in a straight setting. Integrating my life was intimidating at first, but it turned out to be an important shift that helped me deal with my family when we started talking again. Those people at the club accept me, so you will to. And they did.

“The fact that emancipation has given us the freedoms to be out basically says that these circuit parties aren’t even really essential anymore,” Pevner said. Since this isn’t the case in Asia – not yet anyway – events like 「The White Party Bangkok」 seem crucial as they may help some men see how coming together in joy and communal action might get them somewhere better. Despite my conflicting feelings about the circuit scene, there’s no denying that during certain periods they have been instruments of empowerment, only becoming obsolete when equality is achieved. For gay men in Asia, circuit is currently a wonderful thing. But when it fades, that will be a good thing, too.

*Correction, Apr. 2, 2017: Due to a production error, this post originally misstated the city in which the original 「White Party」 began.

Mike Miksche is a regular contributor to『Lambda Literary』and『Daily Xtra』. He’s also written for『The Quietus』,『The Gay and Lesbian Review』and『Litro Magazine』.




Chris Lam 「Hot Taiwanese Men To Follow For Self-Care」

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Chris Lam 「Hot Taiwanese Men To Follow For Self-Care」 - posted on April 20, 2017.

Taiwan represent! What better excuse to talk more about hot men than my Taiwanese heritage, right? You're welcome again btw.

Featured men:

Woody Liang
https://www.instagram.com/woodyliang/
Woody Liang via Instagram

Jacobhhc
https://www.instagram.com/jacobhhc/
Jacob via Instagram

Yukuei Lo
https://www.instagram.com/yukuei_lo/
Yukuei Lo via Instagram

Ted_n_the_ins
https://www.instagram.com/ted_n_the_ins/
Ted_n_the_ins via Instagram

Freddie Hung
https://www.instagram.com/freddiehung/
Freddie Hung via Instagram

NEW VIDEOS EVERY THURSDAY MORNING PST


Chris Lam 「Hot Asian Men To Follow For Self-Care」

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Chris Lam 「Hot Asian Men To Follow For Self-Care」 - posted on February 16, 2017.

Get some water for this thirst. I talk a lot about Grindr stories, but let’s do something that can help you in your own life: recommending hot sexy Asian men to follow on Instagram!!! It’s a small but useful part of my self-care tbh. And it makes me feel not as bad for following so many of them. And it also reminds you as an Asian person that your people are hot and desirable despite lack of representation in American media!

Featured sexy men:

Rene Mayo
https://www.instagram.com/rene_mayo/
Rene Mayo via Instagram

Dragon Tuan Yee
https://www.instagram.com/dragon_tuanyee/
Dragon Tuan Yee via Instagram

Sachin Bhatt
https://www.instagram.com/sachinbhatt/
Sachin Bhatt via Instagram

Rohit Khandelwal
https://www.instagram.com/rohit_khandelwal77/
Rohit Khandelwal via Instagram

Godfrey Gao
https://www.instagram.com/godfreygao/
Godfrey Gao via『Harper’s BAZAAR MEN Thailand

Featured cause:
http://blacklivesmatter.com/

NEW VIDEOS EVERY THURSDAY MORNING PST


Graham Gremore 「If your dating profile says “No Asians” then you’re a “trash gay,” Korean comedian says」

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“Idiots who say ‘No Asians’ are the same trash gays who say ‘No Fats, No Fems, Masc only’ and other basic Grindr sh*t like that,” comedian Peter Kim tells Queerty. “It’s usually white gays (surprise!) that are enslaved to the heteronormative notions of shaming femininity and praising masculinity.”

Kim is a self-identifying “fabulous husky gaysian” comedian born living in Chicago. He’s appeared at Second City, Laugh Factory, and on The Moth, and has recently started using his platform to tackle the issue of racism among gay men, specifically racism directed at Asian men. Last month, he recorded a PSA about it for PBS.

“Americans tend to emasculate Asian men,” Kim says, “so when you’re gay and Asian, you’re expected to speak in a hushed whisper, if at all. When strangers meet me, they expect me to be sweet and understated, so I make sure I serve them the complete opposite dish.”

We had an opportunity to chat with Kim about his experiences as a gay Korean-American man, the absurd things people have said to him about his race, and why he’s not putting up with it any longer...

QUEERTY: How often do people ask you where your from and how do you respond?

KIM: I was born in Flushing, Queens and have never been to Korea, but because of the way my face looks, I am charged with answering for my Korean-ness, instead of being an American human that just happens to not be white. It’s absurd because it’s just another little way white people make sure Asians feel like second class citizens. My favorite is when they find out that I’m Korean and they ask “North or South?” I always say “North” and blankly stare at them until their faces contort and explode with shame.

What are some of the most annoying misconceptions you’ve heard about gay Asian men?

People assume that we are all bottoms, and that’s just not true. Some of us are power-bottoms! And tops, and vers, and asexual, and greedy little leather pigs. What I’m trying to say is that it should be obvious that Asian gays are as sexually diverse as white gays, even if you don’t see them portrayed in your media as such. And by “media,” I do mean “gay porn.”

What about those dudes who write “No Asians” on their dating profiles? Why is saying stuff like that racist? And what about those people who insist it’s not about race but rather “preference?”

You can call it what you want, but it’s straight up disrespect and I’m not having any of it. People think they can be casually racist to Asians and it be totally OK because you don’t see us clapping back. Well, here’s me clapping back: If you’ve never asked yourself why you prefer what you prefer, then you might as well be cattle.

Idiots who say “No Asians” are the same trash gays who say “No Fats, No Fems, Masc only” and other basic Grindr sh*t like that. It’s usually white gays (surprise!) that are enslaved to the heteronormative notions of shaming femininity and praising masculinity, which is insane because, hello, WE ARE GAY!

You’re dating a white guy from Minnesota (where I’m from, BTW!). Have you experienced any challenges being an interracial couple?

Firstly, congrats on being from Minnesota. I’ve traveled all around the Midwest, and you guys seem to be doing the whole “white thing” right. I’ve had the best time meeting my boyfriend’s family and friends in Minneapolis. People seem to be woke, without being self-congratulatory, which is a difficult balance to achieve.

Frankly, the only roadblock we’ve faced is from my mother, who is lovely but does not speak a lick of English, and she’s been an American for 35 years. I guess she figured that I’d learn it, make a bunch of money, then take care of her... So I guess what I’m trying to say is that she better get hooked on some phonics, quick.

How do we, the LGBTQ community, begin to tackle the issue of white supremacy in our culture?

We must tackle white supremacy in our culture by learning from the mistakes of white feminists. We must wake up and stand up for all oppressed groups, intersectionally, starting with women. If sexism and male supremacy is not fixed first, then we have no hope for anything else because oppression trickles down. The abused turn around and abuse those more vulnerable, quickly forgetting the lessons we’ve learned.

Especially during a volatile and confusing time under our current administration, we must all band together and fight hate and fear as a united front. And I think the way to do that is through more communication and exposure. If you care for someone who is a gay Asian man or trans Latina woman or a Black bisexual, you’re more inclined to use your vote to protect them from institutionalized hate.

Is there anything you would like to add?

Privilege, in all its forms and in itself is not a bad thing. We are all more privileged than others in different ways. It’s how we decide to engage with it that defines our character. Some people are so willing to believe that they are the victims of their story that they choose to be willfully ignorant of how much better they have it than so many others in our country, much less the world. It’s not a crime to be privileged, but it is criminal to ignore the existence of it.





Taylor Henderson 「Asian Men Recreate Famous Underwear Ads to Prove They’re Sexy AF」

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Fresh off of Steve Harvey’s nasty comment about the unattractiveness of Asian men, the folks over at BuzzFeed decided to dig into the history behind Asian beauty standards in American pop culture.

Producer Eugene Yang sat down Jeff Yang, Parvesh Cheena, and David Dang and asked “Why the fuck aren’t Asian men considered sexy?”


In 2014, online dating site OkCupid released data showing a clear bias against Asian men when it comes to responses on their dating app. Multiple studies and statistics have affirmed a racial bias against Asian men, but where did this bias come from?

Yang and his panel believe it has something to do with how Asian men are represented in television and media. If you think about the Asian men you’ve seen on screen (Ken Jeong in 「Community」 and Aziz Ansari in 「Parks and Recreation」 are the first ones to come to mind), they’re often comedic relief and aren’t sexually motivated. Yang explains that “if you are an Asian lead, you almost have to be super hot.”

BuzzFeed enlisted four guys to tear down those Asian male stereotypes. These “average Joes” recreated underwear ads that have defined America’s idea of male masculinity for decades.


BuzzFeedVideo 「Asian Men Re-Create Iconic Underwear Ads」 - posted on March 17, 2017.

The four guys also open up about their own insecurities growing up Asian American, and their nervousness in revitalising such iconic photos.


The recreated photos include Mark Wahlberg, David Beckham, Justin Beiber, and Jamie Dornan’s Calvin Klein advertisements.


The guys’ final shots look smokin’ hot and they had a blast doing during the shoot too.


The experiment showed us that seeing a face that looks like yours as the hot underwear model can definitely change how you think about your own sexiness and self-confidence.


It is indeed worth a shot. I would love to see guys of all different kinds of body types on billboards and in films. (A boy can dream...)

The panel did have some last words of advice they really needed the world to hear.


I volunteer!

Taylor Henderson
 @cornbreadsays
Pop culture nerd. Lives for drama. Obsessed with Beyoncé's womb. Tweets way too much.




Alice Nicolov 「The Japanese artist using sport to talk about sexuality」

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The sportsman and performance artist Yuki Kobayashi on gender, identity and being naked

Basket by Yuki Kobayashi

How free do you think your mind actually is? Are you entirely absent of race and gender stereotypes? Do you reject society’s standards of what beautiful means? Yuki Kobayashi’s art will force you to confront the depth of your own convictions.

Using sport as a platform for his uninhibited performance art, the 27-year-old Tokyo-native employs his body and his clothes to explore the neutrality of gender, challenge racial stereotypes and raise questions of the self. Kobayashi’s work is pretty unique in the world of sport: an arena where people are endlessly categorised, stereotypes are usually deeply ingrained and matters of gender, race and sexuality are thrown into sharp relief. “I started to be naked to show this isn’t dangerous; this isn’ dirty; this isn’t negative,” Kobayashi explains when we meet. “Let’s just see it as a real body – this is what you’re hiding under the clothes you choose. It’s a body and you can’t choose how you’re born. That’s your original skin.”

Kobayashi, who trained as a professional tennis player, is brave. Almost unnervingly so. He dismisses the idea of fear – he likes performing too much. “Or maybe I’m too stupid to feel afraid?” he ponders. That’s a trick question. Kobayashi is not stupid. A fine art graduate of both Central St. Martins and the Royal College of Art, Kobayashi challenges preconceptions intelligently. He’s not aggressive or dogmatic – he simply opens doors for people to explore ideas in a safe space, be it in an art gallery or through a picture.

In this day and age, we idolise the image of the body and strict, sometimes invisible, rules govern our thoughts and discourse. But when Kobayashi confronts us with the real thing, we have to ask questions about our received cultural ideas. Dazed spoke with the artist ahead of his upcoming performance at the Yokohama Paratriennale in October to find out more about norm-defying work and why he refuses to compromise.

“Let’s just see it as a real body – this is what you’re hiding under the clothes you choose. It’s a body and you can’t choose how you’re born. That’s your original skin.”

Why do you combine sport and performance art?

Yuki Kobayashi: For me, sport and performance work are very close. The aspect of using the perception of physicality, following your intuition before you think something and how you occupy space and time are similar. Maybe the difference is that in the performance there is no opponent, no winner or loser and, while there are some rules, you can expand or reduce them by yourself and create by yourself. In the performance, action and emotion become very significant materials for making the work.

What are you trying to do with your work?

Yuki Kobayashi: When I went to Florida to play tennis there weren’t many Asian guys and I didn’t see many black guys either. I felt a little bit weird in that situation and when my friends and I tried to join in socially, there weren’t a lot of acceptable situations for us to be involved in. I was a teenager at the time so I didn’t take it too seriously but now I look back it was a little bit weird.

I want to change people’s prejudices. Humanity and biological stuff won’t change – people’s physicality is really different and it depends on how you’re born, but it’s about changing the way people think and breaking those boundaries. I don’t like using the word discrimination but it’s about how you think about everyone else and how you think about yourself – it’s more like self-discrimination. For example, ‘I’m Asian so I can’t really win in sports against stronger people.’ I want people to break down those kinds of boundaries and I want to say: ‘No, don’t think like that, you can do it!’ I think you just have to win. If you win everyone in the audience is going to think, ‘If this Asian guy can win, I can too.’ Winning is the proof and evidence that you can do it. It’s a good way of opening up people’s minds and changing their negative thinking into a positive mental attitude.


What took you from painting on a canvas to making yourself the art?

Yuki Kobayashi: I wanted to show how to make artwork that didn’t have to be painting or installations; it can also be only your body. Performance is better for communicating because it’s more direct. It’s one on one and eyes to eyes so you can feel things from the audience and it’s the most direct way of expressing yourself to someone in that moment. When I’m performing I can see every single person in the audience’s face – that’s why it’s more comfortable for me to do that. I like performing or otherwise why would I do it? I also feel a duty and a responsibility to try and bring about changes. I may be wrong, but I do believe that.

Why do you wear what might be considered typically female costumes?

Yuki Kobayashi: I want to experience what people are feeling and understand how people are looking at sexism and racism – that’s why I wear those costumes. I want to totally change my body’s identity. It’s not about my body needing to be female; I know myself that I have the body of a man. The question is how can you look more neutral? The idea of clothes as an identity and that what you wear is down to your preference is common, but in sports, you have to wear a certain costume. So women have to wear a skirt in tennis and at Wimbledon the players have to wear all white clothes. Those kinds of traditions and rules are pushing people’s identities in one direction. That was what gave me the first idea of starting to wear female clothes and playing sports in gallery spaces.

Did you ever feel like you were having an identity pushed onto you in the world of sport?

Yuki Kobayashi: I would never be pushed by anyone to wear anything I didn’t want to so I’ve never felt bad. But I’ve seen it happen to other people – that’s why I started doing this. People are really fascinated with clothes. For example, female tennis players are expected to wear sports bras, but some don’t and you can see their nipples and people comment on it. Those kinds of issues make me feel really strange like, why are people going crazy about that? It made me think about stadiums almost changing into strip clubs and that made me feel really, really weird. Why are people looking at athletes like that? It’s a sport. I don’t like the sexualisation and the sexism. I want there to be more respect and for people to see the sports. It’s just about winning and losing.

Why did you choose a cheerleader’s outfit for one of your performances?

Yuki Kobayashi: I played sports but I had never tried cheerleading before. When I choose clothes there are a few things I look for: first is whether I like it and I want to wear it. The second is how does it fit on my body? More like a modelling mentality. Then I think about the ideas, the culture and concept of those clothes and the message you send when you put them on your body. Finally, I think about how it works with the concept of neutrality.

“Cheerleaders are in a really weird position. They’re performing in the same stadium and on the same stage as the players, but somehow people don’t think they’re athletes”

That’s why cheerleader’s outfits are nice. Cheerleaders are in a really weird position. They’re performing in the same stadium and on the same stage as the players, but somehow people don’t think they’re athletes. They’re always there in the gaps or in the break time when the teams are taking a rest and they have to get up and perform. It’s an ironic situation to be in. Sometimes the players are kind of tacky – they’re too excited and full of testosterone, but the boys cheerleading with the girls seem much more gentle. I feel like the male cheerleaders are always there, supporting the women, throwing and catching them. They’re still strong but they’re kind gentlemen. I really like that idea.

Do you ever feel vulnerable when you’re performing?

Yuki Kobayashi: In Asian countries, they always think that nudity isn’t good to show and that it’s not really art. For me, it’s not good to compromise an artist’s work. I want to break the walls of the limits of showing artwork in a gallery space and that's why I started to use more nudity. I don’t think my body is dirty – it’s good to show your body as a sculpture and as a piece of art. I don’t feel vulnerable when I’m performing. I don’t really care. I don’t ever feel anything negative from the audience. Whatever the situation is, it’s about just making your work. My work doesn’t change depending on the situation because I never want to compromise myself. I just do the maximum I can in that moment. I wish I could talk to every single person and tell them to be free and that you can be whatever you want to be.

Follow Alice Nicolov on Twitter here @alicenicolov



Yuki Kobayashi 小林勇輝
Official Website: https://www.yukikoba.com/


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